‘Daredevil’ Recap, Episode 10: Best Friends For-never

“Every now and then I get a little crazy / That’s not the way it’s supposed to be / Sometimes my vision is a little hazy / I can’t tell who I should trust or just who I let trust me, yeah….What about your friends? / Will they stand their ground? / Will they let you down again? / What about your friends? / Are they gonna be low down? / Will they ever be around, or will they turn their backs on you?” — TLC, “What About Your Friends”

If only Foggy Nelson and Wilson Fisk had listened to more New Jack Swing!

As you could tell from the title, “Nelson v. Murdock” is an episode about the breakdown of a best friendship in the wake of a terrible truth coming out. But as is so often the case on Daredevil, Wilson Fisk’s story parallels Matt Murdock’s. He, too, it seems, has let down a person he likes and respects. But instead of a tearful confrontation, he winds up with a gala reception full of people foaming at the mouth from poisoned champagne.

I think a series of drunken, angry, borderline coherent text messages from Madame Gao would have sent the same message, but going the extra mile is what got her to the top, I guess.

To be fair, it’s possible the attack on Fisk’s latest legitimate-businessman routine wasn’t Gao’s doing; the episode ends before the culprit can be ascertained. But as smartass numbers guy Leland Owlsley points out, there aren’t many high-ranking members of the mob left. The question is whether, when Leland told Fisk his rupture with Gao had been “taken care of,” he knew that this is what “taken care of” meant.

The heart of the episode, though, is the relationship between Matt and Foggy. While the Nelson and Murdock of the present have a difficult discussion about Matt’s super powers and vigilante history, a series of extended flashbacks paints a picture of their years-long friendship, starting back when they were young and dorky and listened to “Drops of Jupiter” by Train on their laptops.

None of these scenes are killers, and none probably warrant the extended screentime they’re given; the same is true of a third storyline involving reporter Ben Urich’s waning financial fortunes and Karen’s attempt to get him back on track by tracking down Fisk’s mom. But what they provide is a portrait of the lawyers as young men who are really likeable (for the most part; freshman-year Foggy was a bit of a PUA creep), and who really like each other. Seeing them in happier times offsets the angst, and gives it added weight.

As such, it’s a big episode for actor Elden Henson, whose had previously been the weak link in a very strong ensemble. With the bad jokes on mute, his Foggy loses the comic-relief baggage and emerges as the kind of basically happy, basically decent, basically successful young guy you simply don’t see on prestige dramas that often. When he questions Matt for going outside the law, or attacks him for lying to him for years, or cries because he’s been so badly betrayed by someone he trusted, it feels all the more real because it comes from a character who’s not accustomed to these kinds of personal traumas. This is, quite convincingly, the worst thing that’s ever happened to him.

It comes down to how these men see themselves, and each other. Matt has a messianic streak a mile wide, and he sees the suffering he both endures and inflicts as necessary. He’s got both the body and the backstory of a god who lays it on the line for his people.

But when Foggy pictures Matt’s extracurricular activities, he only sees this:

He simply can’t square the charming blind guy with a bleeding heart he’s known for his whole adult life with the vigilante turning Hell’s Kitchen into a war zone. “This city needs me in that mask, Foggy,” Matt tells him. “Maybe you’re right,” his partner replies. “Maybe it does. But I don’t. I only ever needed my friend.” Partnership dissolved.